The Fish Knight
by Esiliath
Summary: When Raoul takes a boy from a cold, conservative fiefdom as his squire, he changes the boy forever. This is the story of Corrin: his trials, his passions, his lover, and his devastating failures. It is the story of the changing world of Tortall, and one man's struggle to find his place there.
1. The Boy

NOTES: Obviously lots of the locations, characters, etc. in this story belong to the awesome Tamora Pierce. I've taken some liberties (such as giving Raoul a sister) but only where I could see it being in the books and just not mentioned. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

Later, Raoul would remember that day in May when Corrin had entered his life. Of course, he had known the boy since birth. He was Corrin's uncle, after all. But they had never been close, until that day.

He had stood at the edge of the practice courts and watched with a sick fascination. The boy—that was how he thought of him then, just the boy—had Raoul's blood. Giant's blood, some would joke. At just 14, he towered over the other pages. There was viciousness in him that was uncomfortably familiar to Raoul.

Undoubtedly, the boy knew his way around a sword. First Raoul watched him against a male page, and then a female one; the boy beat both with a ferocious ease. The way his opponents flinched, Raoul thought he was hitting harder than he strictly needed to be. Perhaps it was simply training. Or perhaps, a fearful part of him whispered, perhaps the boy liked pain.

Perhaps the boy took after his father.

If there was one regret in Raoul's life, it was that his younger sister had been married to the beastly man. Raoul had been gone when the marriage was arranged, and no amount of pleading with her later had prevailed. She was wed, and for some reason he couldn't begin to fathom, she insisted she was happy. The first time he so much as got a whiff of the man hurting Adeline, they had had a talk, Raoul and this… man, if he could even be called that.

Suffice to say, Adeline would not be hurt again. Raoul had made that clear. Abundantly clear.

Still, he couldn't be there as often as he would have liked, if only for his niece and nephews. Being commander of the King's own cost time, and although he would always love Adeline unreservedly, they had never been close. He worried for her, and the rest of them, but there was little he felt he could do unless he was asked. She had told him that she didn't want his help. He would have been more than willing to give it.

There were three children from the marriage. The oldest boy, Everett, had the prestige of being the heir. He was wild and tumultuous and loud. Whatever had or hadn't happened in his childhood, by the time Raoul could have stepped in, it was over. He did not want fathering now.

The youngest was a girl. Irene. He had the sense that she was more sheltered than the boys had been, that Adeline had protected her daughter more than she had been able to protect the boys.

The boy. Because then, there was the middle child. The boy. The one in front of him now, this silent hulk of a boy who had inherited Raoul's dark unruly hair and felt perhaps too comfortable with a weapon in his hand. He could remember, from a visit years earlier, before the boy was even a page, that Corrin had been quiet then, too. He had been a fearful child. He had cried out in the night. Raoul wondered what had put that fear in him.

Now, watching the boy work and sweat and yell, he wondered what had taken it away.

The truth was, Raoul was nervous to take the boy as a squire. Things had gone wonderfully with Keladry, and then with Alan. He could look back on both of them with pride. He wasn't so sure about this boy. He didn't know who Corrin was, and although Raoul wasn't worried for his own safety, he was a little nervous of what darkness might lay inside the boy. At 14, he was well on his way to being a grown man. What impact could he have on Corrin's person? What would he do, if the boy turned out violent? What if he failed, and was responsible? But what if he did nothing?

No, Raoul was not the sort of man who could stand by and do nothing. And this boy was family. He had never had a real father, Raoul knew. His utter ass of a brother in law hadn't even deserved the title of father.

What love and support he could give to this boy, he would have to hope that it could be enough.

With a sigh and a prayer to Mithros and the Mother, Raoul straightened up from where he had leaned on the post.

"Corrin," he called. The boy looked up, tucking the blunt practice sword under his arm.

"Uncle," the boy said. "I didn't see you."

"That was well fought," Raoul said. And then, after a pause: "do you have a moment? There's something I'd like to talk to you about."


	2. Ground Rules

"You don't want to go home for the summer first? See your mother?" Raoul asked. "Once we're in the field, it'll be harder to leave."

"No, sir." The boy said. They were walking through the palace halls, on the way back to the rooms they now shared. Well, the rooms they would share when Buri was out of Corus, as she was that week.

Raoul shot him a sideways glance, but the boy—Corrin, he reminded himself. He had to start calling him Corrin now. Corrin didn't seem to have anything else to say. His face was entirely placid. There wasn't any emotion there, or even a trace of being upset. He wished he knew what Corrin was thinking. Did he not want to return home? Or did he simply not care?

"Well," Raoul said, when they reached the doors. "I've got some papers to go over. I'll see you tomorrow. We'll go down to the courts, see what you can do, eh?"

"Yes, sir," the boy said.

"Please," Raoul took the chance to lay his hand on Corrin's shoulder. He thought the boy flinched, and Raoul removed his hand. "Just call me Raoul. You might be my Squire, but I'm your Uncle. And I never cared much for formalities. I don't want to remind you again!"

A flicker of a smile crossed the boy's face. _Well, that's something_, Raoul thought. He unlocked his door. The boy was still standing there.

"Goodnight, Corrin," Raoul said.

"Goodnight."

While Raoul worked, he could hear the boy moving around. Likely he was rearranging his new quarters and finishing unpacking, since they had gone out soon after Corrin's things had been delivered by servants.

He didn't know what to think about the boy yet. At first his silences had seemed discourteous, but slowly Raoul had come to see that he was almost polite to a fault. He answered all the questions put before him, even if he answered them as briefly as possible. Nor did he seem dull. In fact, if anything, it seemed as though he wasn't fully _there._ It was as if he was only a shell of a person, with no opinion or personality—

_Oh, shut it, _Raoul told himself. _One night, and you're already thinking bad of him!_ The boy couldn't help who his father was, and he didn't deserve to be judged for it. It was a lesson Raoul had applied countless times to others. He couldn't forget it now simply because he had a personal hatred against Corrin's father. And then, didn't the boy deserve his love, too? After all, he was Adeline's son.

Likely he was just shy; yes, that was it. Undoubtedly, he would come out of his shell soon enough.

Raoul had finished reading through his reports. He was tired, and full, and decided it would be an excellent time to go to sleep early. After all, he often worked long and difficult hours. He liked to take advantage of small lazy moments when he could.

He was lying in bed, still awake, when he heard the door to Corrin's room swing open and the boy pad out into the hallway.

* * *

He was not surprised that the boy had been getting into mischief. He was shocked, and more than a little disappointed, when he realized what it had been.

It was late morning, and Raoul had to pound hard on Corrin's door before he got so much as a groan from the boy.

"Have your training masters been letting you sleep in?" Raoul joked through the doorway. It didn't bother him that the boy was reluctant to get up, so long as he could move quickly when he needed to. After all, youngsters sometimes needed a little more sleep than he did, Raoul reminded himself.

"Time 's it?" the boy muttered.

"Halfway to noon. I'd rather be done practicing by the hottest part of the day, if it's all the same."

"Stormwing dung," he heard through the door. "One moment."

"Just come into my chambers when you're done."

He was surprised at how tired the boy continued to look as Raoul tossed him a piece of fruit and they headed down to the practice courts. They grabbed dull practice swords and, after a brief and quiet stretch, crossed into the guard position.

The boy moved slowly and groggily, but he blocked the first strike. He faltered on the second. This was not the same boy Raoul had watched spar a few weeks ago. He acted like a page who was still learning how to hold his weapon!

"What's wrong with you?" Raoul asked. "You can't seriously be that tired. Are you ill?"

"I'm fine," the boy said. He raised his sword again, pressed his eyes closed for a moment, and shook his head a little as if to clear it.

Raoul was angry, admittedly. He had no patience for this sort of thing. He was a gentle man, but he pushed himself, and he expected others to do the same. Especially on this boy's first day as his Squire. Mithros, this boy was supposed to be trying to impress him right now! He stopped holding back and swung at the boy, who didn't move near quickly enough to block the strike. It hit his side squarely and he stumbled to the side, bent over, and then rushed to the edge of the courts. Doubled back over, he threw up the fruit he had eaten minutes before.

"Honestly, boy," Raoul said. He paused a moment, furrowed his brow, and frowned. "Are you drunk?"

"No," Corrin said. "Might be hungover, though."

Goddess preserve him. The boy was, what, fourteen? It was hardly the night after a festival. Raoul opened his mouth to say something, and then stopped himself. He wanted to slap the boy, or spit on the ground, or something, but that certainly would not do. And it wasn't as if he hadn't had his own troubles with drinking, in the past.

"Well," Raoul said, as slowly as he could manage. "That's… well. Frankly speaking, that's unacceptable."

"Sorry," the boy said, all too quickly.

"No," Raoul said, trying not to yell. "You're really not, are you? Well, what if we'd been called into the field? What if you had to ride and fight like your life depended on it, or someone else's?"

The boy wouldn't meet his gaze.

"Look, I understand," Raoul tried again. "It's tempting, I know. I used to drink myself. But you're far too young to be getting hangovers. And so long as you're my Squire, _you won't be_. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Don't call me that. Now go bathe, or something. You may eat dinner with the other Squires, but afterwards I expect you ready to practice with me."

The boy bowed and turned to walk away.

"And Corrin? If this happens again, don't expect me to be half so nice."

* * *

The evening went well. Corrin was far recovered, and they spent an hour sparring with breaks in between short sessions. There was still a lot the boy had to learn. He kept dropping his guard, for one, and although Raoul appreciated a good offense he sometimes rushed forwards when there was no opening. Still, he was pleased. For a squire, and a new squire at that, the boy was actually quite good. It was one thing to see him practicing against others his own age. But sparring with the boy himself, he could see just how impressive Corrin might one day be, if he didn't get in the way of himself.

"Good," Raoul said. "I'd like to see you with some other weapons tomorrow. We've got some errands to run if we're to outfit you properly… and you don't have a second horse, do you?"

They began to walk back to the rooms.

"No, just the one," Corrin said. Raoul had passed the pages jousting a year past and picked Corrin out of the small crowd. He thought he remembered the mount in question, a big gray still in his youth.

"Alright. Barring outside circumstances, we'll go into town tomorrow and see if we can't fix that."

"I'm not.. I mean…" The boy stuttered and crossed his arms in discomfort. It was perhaps the most blatant expression of emotion that Raoul had seen yet.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't think I can afford a second horse," the boy admitted. "I could write to my father, but..."

"Didn't anyone ever tell you, a knight master pays for his squire's equipment?" Raoul said, incredulous. "What, did you think I'd make you buy your own mount? Mithros, Corrin, give me some credit!"

The boy blushed. "I'm sorry, sir. Uncle. It's just, a horse isn't exactly a small purchase. I didn't think…"

"Maybe not, but a Knight can live or die by his horse," Raoul said.

"I didn't think you'd be wanting to… invest? Invest so much money in me, after this morning," the boy ventured softly.

"I won't pretend I wasn't disappointed, Corrin," Raoul said. "But that doesn't mean you don't get a second chance. Everybody makes mistakes."

"Some worse than others," the boy said.

"Aye, some worse than others. I used to have a drinking problem, did you know that? It wasn't pretty."

Silence fell on them for the space of a few footsteps.

"What made you stop?" the boy asked at last.

"Well, part of it was that I was hurting the people around me," Raoul said. "And part of it was that I had to make a choice. I could keep running myself into the ground, or I could pick myself up and be who I wanted to be."

"Oh," said the boy.

"Life's all about the choices we make," Raoul continued. "People like to pretend they don't have a choice, when they have to do something hard. The truth is, you always have a choice. It's just not always an easy one. But being a knight doesn't just mean looking after the people around you. It means looking after yourself, too, because otherwise you're useless to them and to yourself."

"I suppose I hadn't thought of it that way."

"You do want to be a knight, don't you?" Raoul asked. "I mean, was it your choice?"

"Yes. It's the only thing I've ever really wanted to do."

"Why's that?"

"I don't know. It just felt right." Silence again for a moment, and then the boy spoke back up. "No, that's not true. I guess I wanted to be strong, at first. Be able to take care of myself. But then… something about it… fighting is like dancing, you know? There's something elegant about it. You win or you don't. You always know how you're doing. And you can feel it when you get it right."

"Do you want to be a knight," Raoul said slowly, choosing his words carefully, "because you enjoy fighting?"

"No," the boy said, and sounded almost surprised. "I mean, I do. Like fighting. But that's a cursed-awful reason to become a knight. No, I'd like to do good things."

_Well, _thought Raoul, _thank the gods for that._ But of course the boy wouldn't have said anything different. It wasn't like he was some sort of villain. He'd been given the same sort of chivalry lessons the rest of them had. Even the bad apples didn't come right out and say so, but he liked to think that Corrin wasn't all rotten.

When the reached the doors, Raoul asked Corrin to join him. "Just for a moment, and then you can go," he promised. "But there are some things I think we should talk about."

Inside, he offered Corrin a seat and poured them both water from a jug on his sideboard. They sat on opposite sides of Raoul's desk. Raoul took a moment to compose his thoughts. He had been trying to figure out what to say all day. When he looked up, he could see that Corrin was holding his glass tightly with both hands. So the boy was nervous. Likely he had guessed it was about the morning.

Raoul sighed and leaned back. Well, this didn't have to be hard or formal. They were family, after all. And he didn't mean to lecture the boy, just make sure he knew where they stood.

"Look," Raoul started. "I wasn't lying about giving you a second chance, and after tonight, I'm going to put this morning behind us. Unless it becomes a problem later, It'll be like it never happened, alright?"

"Thank you," Corrin said.

"But that doesn't mean it's alright that it did happen, Corrin."

"No. I know."

"Then why… what did you think would happen? That you'd show up sick and I wouldn't notice?"

"I wasn't hoping to be sick, uncle."

"Nobody ever is. Have you been drunk before?"

The boy hesitated a moment, and then nodded.

"Alright. Do you drink often?"

"No."

"Then here's how it's going to be, Corrin. For the next for years, you're going to be my squire. I'll teach you what I know about fighting and the world, and I'll take care of your needs, equipment and such. But in return, you're going to have to make me a few promises." Raoul held up a hand so he could count off on his fingers. "No drugs. No drinking, except for a cup of wine at feasts and the like. Any girls you choose to, ah, be with, you'll make sure they want the same things as you do, and you'll be safe about it. That's for later, of course, I don't encourage you to start that sort of thing right now."

He cleared his throat. Talking about sex was always awkward, when it wasn't with people of his own age. He put up a fourth finger. "If I'm expecting things of you, you've got to expect things of yourself, too. Be on time. Take care of yourself. Work hard. That sort of thing. Always do your best. Is that clear?"

Corrin nodded, and then said, "Yes, Uncle. Of course. And I am sorry, about this morning. I had meant to get away with it."

Raoul raised an eyebrow, and Corrin cleared his throat.

"Sorry, that came out wrong. I mean, it's true, I didn't want to be caught. But what I meant was—I didn't mean to start out that way. And I wish I hadn't."

"I understand. I don't expect you to be perfect, Corrin. But I do expect you to try."

"I will. I promise."

"I think that's it, then," Raoul said, standing up. "And please, if you have questions, or needs, or the like, or if there's something I could do a better job of, let me know."

Corrin stood up and went to the door that adjoined their rooms. He was about to open it when he remembered to turn and bow.

"Uncle," he said quickly. "Thank you."

"Hm?"

"For taking me as a squire. And being understanding. I promise to do my best."

The boy fled through the door.

"Well," Raoul murmured with a smile. He sat down and took a sip of his water, and glanced at the seat Corrin had abandoned, the half-drank glass perched on the edge of his desk. "That went well."


	3. The Fish Knight

The night after Corrin's ordeal, Raoul took him, his sister Adeline, Buri, and Corrin's closest friend—a redheaded man named Tallis, who had just been knighted three days before—to one of Corus's nicer eating-houses. Adeline was quiet next to her hulking son, as quiet as Corrin had been when Raoul first met him. She looked tired, and proud. Raoul was furious at first when she had told him that her husband, the Lord Sir Dryden, was indisposed to attend his son's knighting. Afterwards, Raoul had repented and realized that it was probably for the best.

Corrin was lively. He had changed a lot in four short years, and this night brought that back to him more than anything. For one thing, his appearance. He had grown tall, almost as tall as Raoul himself was. His hair was longer now, and tied back in a horse-tail. He looked at home with himself. He smiled more easily.

But it was how he acted that stood out most. He was still quiet, particularly around those he didn't know well, but he spoke without hesitation. He was confident, assured, and at times, even charming. A red welt across his cheek reminded all of them of the chamber he had stumbled out of only the morning before, and the fact that he was now a fully grown knight with a shield of his own.

"No, admit it," Corrin said, pointing his fork at Raoul, "I used to be a little _shit_."

"Oh, please," Adeline said, covering her mouth as the others burst out laughing.

"With pleasure," Raoul said. "I can even remind you of a few choice incidents, if you'd like."

"What, like when you put hot peppers into my flask?" Tallis said.

"That was a joke."

"Or that time you put the sergeant's horse away without grooming him," Raoul said.

"Guilty. But he deserved it, even if the horse didn't."

"I'll never forget you showing up hung-over your first day as my squire. Gods, the look on your face when you realized you were going to be sick…"

Tallis burst out laughing. "Sorry about that, Raoul."

"Sorry? Why are _you—_you were in on that, weren't you?"

"I stole the wine for it!"

"It was supposed to be a celebration," Corrin admitted sheepishly.

"I really don't need to be hearing this," Adeline insisted, resisting the urge to bury her face in her hands.

"There were good things, too," Raoul admitted. "He saved a lot of lives."

"Don't embarrass me, Uncle," Corrin said.

"Oh, so only the good things embarrass you?" Buri said.

"I've a reputation to maintain." That got a laugh out of all of them.

The conversation turned to the two young knight's plans for the coming year. It was a time of relative peace, so the most they might be called on by the crown was the occasional border patrol.

"It seems as good a time as any to see the country," Tallis said, taking a sip of ale. "What do you think, Corrin? Up for an adventure?"

"Maybe," Corrin said with a smile.

"You could come visit home," his mother ventured. "Irene won't come to court for another year. She'd love to see you, I'm sure."

"Maybe," Corrin said again, but his smile faded. He refused to meet his mother's gaze.

"You've hardly stopped in at all, these past years," she said softly.

"I keep telling you, I'm busy. You're welcome to come here, anytime."

There was a decidedly awkward pause. Part of Raoul was glad that Corrin had made the decision to visit his home rarely. Although the newly knighted man rarely chose to speak about it, Raoul had gathered more and more that his home was not a particularly cheerful place. Still, part of him wished that Corrin would go, if only for the sake of his mother and sister.

"Well, maybe we'll stop by on our grand adventure," Tallis broke in.

"I never agreed to go on any sort of adventure with you," Corrin said.

"You just did!"

"I said 'maybe,' dolt. It's not the same thing."

After the dinner, Buri shook Corrin and Tallis' hands, embraced Adeline, and pulled Raoul down for a kiss before leaving them for the modest city house that she and Raoul had purchased together a few years before. Tallis went off to meet up with other friends of theirs, at a predetermined tavern.

"I'll meet you later," Corrin said.

"You should go now," his mother urged. "Raoul can walk me back."

"No, mother, it's alright. I see you so rarely."

They walked back to the palace briskly, given the cold of midwinter, but stood chatting for a while before Adeline said her goodnights and vanished into the guest chambers provided for her.

"Well," Raoul said to Corrin. "Heading out for the night?"

"In a moment. I was going to change first."

"I'll walk you back."

Soon, Corrin would be moving into his own chambers, now that he was no longer Raoul's squire, but there was no big rush. Even if Raoul chose a new squire, and he didn't think it likely that he would, there were still months until the pages would become squires.

"I know I thanked you before," Corrin said, "but really, Raoul. I can't tell you how grateful I am for everything you've done."

"I know. And I'm glad you were my squire, Corrin."

"Me, too."

"About the visit to your mother," Raoul said. "I know it's a little hard, but if you'd like, I would go with you. After all, she's my sister. I don't see her as often as I should, either."

"Maybe. I'll think about it, really, I will. Thank you, though. I appreciate it."

"Of course," Raoul said. "You know I'd do anything for you."

Corrin collected his thoughts for a moment, steeling himself.

"Raoul?"

"Yes?"

"It might be strange, but I want you to know. You've been like a father to me, these past few years."

"I'm honored you would say that."

"Truly, Raoul. Sometimes, I wish… sometimes I wish you were my father, after all."

Another pause.

"Me, too, Corrin." There was a moment of silence, and Raoul worried that he hadn't properly expressed himself. He didn't want Corrin thinking that he didn't love him. "I think of you as a son sometimes, truth be told."

They smiled at each other, and came to the doors. They embraced.

"I'm proud of you," Raoul said.

"Thank you," Corrin answered.

His servant, Brynn, had left a fire banked in the hearth. It was cold in the room, and Corrin shivered as he stripped off his dress tunic, but he didn't bother to build up the fire. He'd be gone in a moment, anyways.

He was slipping on a more casual shirt when he noticed, in the dim light, the shape on his bed. It was a covered kite shield. In a heat of excitement he pulled it out of the coverings and carried it over to the low fire to admire the design.

The shield had been painted with the Goldenlake colors of Raoul and his mother's house, striped thick bands of green and gold. A white fish, the symbol of his father's house, danced on top of the stripes.

It was beautiful. He fitted the shield over his arm and stroked his hand along the painted surface. He wished he could remove the fish and carry only his mother's house with him, but it would be indecent. No matter what his inner desires, he was Lord Dryden's son in name and blood.

Reverently he placed the shield back into its case and put on his coat. He knocked on Raoul's door before he left, but Raoul didn't answer. He had already left for the city again, and his home with Buri. Corrin would have to thank him later.

Minutes later he was stepping into the night air, the cold hitting him like a slap in the face. He had to struggle not to break into a run. He was a knight, and his own man. It felt like he stood at the edge of the world, ready to dive in.

With a whoop that drew him more than a few stares, he abandoned his attempts at civility and leapt forwards, running towards the city, the night, and his friends.


	4. The Fat Mongrel

I forgot to put notes on the beginnings of some of the other chapters, so I guess this is more a reminder than anything else. As you should all know given that it's fanfiction, half this stuff belongs to the awesome Tamora Pierce! Raoul, George, Port Legann, and Corus... etc. Not mine.

Please enjoy! I hope you like it!

* * *

They reached Port Legann by mid-afternoon. The Knights each rode destriers, with their packs slung over Nimble, the tall bay Lord Raoul had given Corrin when he became his squire.

George Cooper had recommended a lively inn to them at Pirate's Swoop, after seeing that the two knights weren't looking forwards to spending half their nights in noble households. They clattered into the yard of the Fat Mongrel, swinging off their horses and unloading their saddlebags as a serving boy ambled out to take their reins.

Corrin handed them over gladly, ready to be on foot the rest of the day. He was riding a solid black horse he had named Fury for his unyielding spirit. Feather, the big gray he'd once ridden, had been retired after a hilltribe's arrow lamed him. He still missed the gray. Fury was everything a Knight might want in a horse, but Feather, he thought, had been smarter, sharper. Of course, Feather had grown up around the Wildmage, and Fury had only met her a year ago. It was no fault of the stallion's.

Rooms were only a copper, and the bottom tavern of the inn was already supporting its first customers.

"I can see why the Baron likes it here," Tallis said with an excited grin. "Looks like his sort of folk, from what I hear."

They explored the Port for the rest of the afternoon without much incidence. When they began to get hungry, they returned to the inn, since a place like the Fat Mongrel wasn't likely to be more expensive than anywhere else they might find a cooked supper. They were right, and they got what they paid for. The meat was tough, and the ale was sour, but neither of them particularly minded.

As they ate, there was a brief happy commotion as a group of roguish types convinced a young girl to take the stage, which was little more than a raised platform in a corner of the tavern floor.

"One song," she insisted to them. "That's all your getting, tonight."

"Just play the damned thing!" One of them yelled back, amidst general laughter.

Surely there were more beautiful girls in Corus. A number of the ladies were particularly stunning, for one thing. But Corrin couldn't help but think how incredibly lovely she was. Perhaps it was the way she smiled and tucked back a loose strand of hair, or the way her eyelids fluttered closed and her chin tilted up as she sang accompaniment to the lute she plucked and strummed. Corrin put down his knife and watched for the whole song, utterly entranced.

"Go talk to her," Tallis said, immediately after she had grinned and hopped off the little stage.

"What?" Corrin looked up, breaking out of his daze.

"You couldn't stop staring. We're only here for the night. So go."

"No," Corrin said, looking back down at his plate. "I couldn't. I don't know her."

"Well, not unless you change it, you don't!"

"You're right," Corrin said with a sigh. "But we're only here a night. What would be the point?"

Tallis looked at his friend as if he'd gone completely mad and missed the most basic lessons of life.

"You need to learn to have a little fun," Tallis reprimanded.

Corrin managed to avoid introducing himself to the girl for the better part of an hour. Just as he began to think perhaps there was no harm in it, she left, and that was that. The sickness of regret filled him; he didn't so much as know her name, but he was filled with an infatuation of her voice, her features, the tilt of her wrist across her instrument.

"Graveyard hag," Tallis said. "I'm not spending the evening with you if you're gonna look like someone just _died_ the whole time."

"Alright," Corrin said, putting the girl behind him with a reluctant sigh. "You're right. Let's go have fun."

The night ended with one drunk Tallis, one heavily tipsy Corrin (he had always been careful with drinking, after Raoul's first lecture to him), and a half-remembered brawl that had broken out for half a minute in an alley when a sailor thought Tallis was looking at his girl the wrong way.

Corrin helped Tallis back to his room, not because Tallis needed help walking but because he was determined to sleep anywhere other than the room that had been rented for him. At last deposited in his bed, Corrin went to his own room, took off his sword belt, and lay down. 'Adventuring,' as Tallis called it, was all well and good, but he yearned for something better. Something more… real? He thought to himself.

He wanted to be fighting bandits or changing lives or sailing to kingdoms he'd before only dreamed of. Not getting drunk in every Tortallan city they could find. He understood: they were young, and Tallis finally felt free of obligation. But Corrin felt more obligated than ever. He was a knight at last. He wanted to be doing the things he had always thought knights were supposed to do. He even longed for war, as gruesome and horrific as he knew it would be, if only to be doing something he felt was useful.

He'd agreed to visit his family with Tallis. They would still do that, but perhaps afterwards, Corrin thought, he'd go back to Corus and see what work the King or even Raoul could give him.

He lay awake with his thoughts for some minutes before sleep came unexpectedly and pulled him away.


	5. A Grim Prospect

Erwold was a hill fief, half a month's ride to the East of Port Legann. They arrived in spring, just as the grounds of the castle burst into bloom. It was as lovely as Corrin had ever seen: the crossway with the dark wooden bridge, the castle raising its modest spires against the dying light, the stunted and gnarled trees.

Lord Sir Dryden of Erwold was almost hospitable, with Tallis there: Tallis was a knight, and not family, and Dryden was the sort of man who liked to put on a show. He had his moments of nastiness, still; Corrin was the second son, and he got the impression (as he always had) that his father would never quite be pleased with him, or never much care what he did. The most Dryden addressed Corrin was mainly to ask about his elder brother Everett, who had been knighted two years before.

His mother Adeline and younger sister Irene were a different matter. They showered both knights in affection. Irene was shy around Tallis at first, blushing and curtsying and running out of any room that the two men walked into, but she learned to be comfortable with the redhead soon enough. Adeline had a small feast prepared for the family the night after they arrived.

"We'll have to start looking for a wife for you, now that you're knighted," Dryden said as two serving women walked around the table, offering them each a platter with cuts of roast duck.

"I don't want to be married yet," Corrin said, carelessly selecting the piece of meat closest to him and trying to react calmly to his father's words.

"You'll have to soon enough," Dryden said. "We could use the money. The East Hall's starting to leak. And I'll be feeding and clothing your sister for a year or two, yet."

Lord Sir Dryden said this all in such a matter-of-fact way that it could be simply another business transaction, like trading a pig at the fair. Corrin wished his father hadn't brought Irene into it. Part of him realized that she was getting old enough to take care of herself, that she really was almost of an age to be married, but he didn't like to think of her that way.

"There's the Kendrach girl," Dryden continued. "I spoke with her father last month. She'd be a good match."

"You talked with her father?" Corrin said, and picked up his goblet, trying not to let his hand shake.

"Aye, boy. Weddings don't make themselves."

"I don't want to marry her." He looked at his mother, looked at everyone around the table, but nobody else spoke. Tallis wouldn't even meet his gaze, obviously embarrassed to be caught up in another family's business.

"Well, you might have to."

"Please, father. Let me find my own wife."

"You wouldn't know a good match from a farm girl," Lord Sir Dryden said, and took a large draught of wine.

"At least let him look," Adeline spoke up, voice reasonable and calm. "I'm sure there are many charming ladies in Corus?" She turned the last words into a question, peering at Tallis and Corrin.

"That there are," Tallis said, cheerfully. "Never fear, we can find him a bride if that's what he needs."

"Doesn't need someone charming," Dryden said, cutting his meat roughly. His voice sounded muddled, as if the drink was beginning to affect him. "Just make sure you're looking at girls from good families. And if you can't find someone, don't think that means you won't get married. We don't need _you_ to make you a match."

They stayed the next day, going hawking with Irene and exploring the outer territories of the fiefdom, where she was never allowed to ride alone.

"Who are you going to marry?" Irene asked Corrin.

"What? Nobody. I was serious when I said I wasn't ready for that yet."

"I thought you might've said no to father because you had someone in mind," she said, simply.

"Corrin, a lover?" Tallis said. "Most girls prefer someone who talks."

"Corrin talks," Irene said.

"Not to girls," Tallis said. "At least, not to girls who aren't family."

"Alright," Corrin said, "I think that's quite enough of that. Anyways, I'm not getting married."

"You'll have to, if papa's mind is set to it," Irene said simply. "You'd be better off choosing someone you wanted to marry, at least."

"What if I don't want to marry anyone?"

"Then you'll have to hope he at least chooses someone likeable for you."

"What a grim life."

"Yes, well…" Irene shrugged. It was the life that had awaited her for her whole life.

"Doesn't it ever bother you," Corrin said, after a moment where they all walked their horses in silence, "the way we do things? Sometimes I think the whole country's moving forwards but us. That we're getting left behind in some archaic time of old rules no one else gives a damn about."

"Yes," said Irene. "But we're not the only ones. There are other houses still holding out for the old ways."

"Not many," Tallis said. "Forgive me, but your father is a stick in the mud."

Corrin said nothing, but Irene giggled and hid her mouth. "Sword in the mud, if he heard you say that," she responded. "So you'd better keep your mouth shut around him!"

"Can't you come to Corus earlier?" Corrin said suddenly. "I know you aren't supposed to be presented to court yet, but I could find you a place to stay. You belong there more than here. And I hate to think of you shut up in this place."

Irene sighed. "No. It wouldn't be right. I feel bad enough that I'll have to leave mother here…" her voice trailed off for a moment. "It's not much longer. I'll be fine. And papa wouldn't have that, believe me."

"I suppose not."

"Besides," she said. "I never asked to be a lady, either, Corrin. Do you think I'm looking forwards to a noble marriage? My greatest hope is that he doesn't choose an old man twice my age. You know I won't have any say, if I can't find someone fast who papa likes."

Corrin's horse sidled, fidgeting underneath its suddenly tense rider.

"Mithros, that really is a grim future," Tallis said. "No offense, but I'm glad I didn't grow up an Erwold."

"No offense taken," Irene said. "And it's not so bad. There are people with less privilege."

"Can we talk about something else?" Corrin asked.

They were riding through the bottom of a shallow valley, along a worn dirt path. The pathway cut up the approaching hill, the slope covered in little spring flowers and sparse trees slipping into bud.

"We can talk about how bad of a rider you are," Irene said, "after you lose the race."

Corrin didn't have a chance to ask what she meant. She was off, her horse leaping suddenly into a canter and then a charging gallop up the path.

Without a word, Tallis and Corrin kicked their own mounts forward, and the three of them raced up the winding slope, shouting insults and yelling to the wind.

If they were smart, they wouldn't have made so much noise. But then, they didn't realize what was waiting for them on the other side.


	6. My Lands, My Justice

Again, the obligatory occasional disclaimer: this is a work of fanfiction. The world and many of its places and characters, such as Raoul, Corus, and Persopolis were created by Tamora Pierce, who is insanely amazing and awesome.

Hope you're enjoying the story. Please let me know if you have any feedback about it! I'd love to know what people's impressions are of it.

* * *

If Corrin had been thinking, he might have remembered how dangerous things could get in the hill country. It was, after all, his homeland. And if the memories of his childhood weren't strong enough, he had gone on numerous trips into the hills with Lord Raoul. It was thanks to a hill tribesman's arrow that his gray Feather had been lamed.

Irene reached the top of the hill first. Tallis reined his mount in a stride behind her, and a second after that Corrin's black Fury skidded to a halt with the other two.

"Well, what did I say?" Irene said smugly. "Brother dear, you will never learn to outride me."

"Well, not if you cheat," he said with a smile. "It's not a fair race if you start before we do."

"You just don't want to admit that I might be better than you at- what's wrong?" She had caught a look of Tallis' face. The lanky knight was looking over the hill, his mouth sharp and his eyes fixed as he gathered the reins that he had loosened only a moment ago.

"I don't know. I thought I saw… we should go," he said suddenly.

"Tallis?" Corrin jogged Fury forwards a few paces to a better vantage point, his right hand dropping off the reins to fall lightly over his sword hilt. There was a line of trees below them, and Corrin could see shapes moving in them. He was about to agree that they leave when an arrow whizzed out of the trees and whistled by his ear. Thank the gods that whoever shot was not a better marksman, or markswoman.

"Irene!" He shouted, drawing his sword as his mind raced. They had to get her back—but what if there were others behind them—couldn't keep her near a fight—why didn't he have his shield, or a bow—idiot—"_RIDE," _he yelled to her.

Irene didn't bother to argue. Eyes wide, she pivoted her horse and took off back down the hill they had raced up. Corrin was reluctant to give up the high ground, but they needed cover from the arrows. Tallis followed him partway down the hill after Irene, then the two knights turned back to the threat.

"Should we run?" Tallis suggested. The other knight had drawn his sword, as well.

"They're on our land," Corrin said, eyebrows furrowed.

"Right," Tallis said. "And they could have a mage. Or several. Or an archer with more luck? Gods know how many of them there are."

"You're right," Corrin said. "Follow my sister. I'll be behind you. I want to see more of them."

"As if," Tallis said, his voice hushed.

Crouching low over Fury's neck, Corrin rode back up to the top of the hill for a second before spurring Fury back down the slope again.

"They haven't left the trees," he whispered. "There can't be that many of them. They'd have come out if they thought they could take us."

"Unless it's a trap. Let's go back."

"Tallis," Corrin said. "You were the one who wanted to go on an adventure. Don't tell me getting knighted made you a coward?"

"This is stupid," Tallis said. "Okay. The trick is getting to them before any arrows get to us."

"So we take them in a charge," Corrin said.

"You realize we're both going to get killed, yes?"

"I'm looking forward to it."

They both laughed shakily and quietly.

"On my count," Tallis said.

They burst over the hill and descended with their swords out. There was no volley of arrows, but only a few that spun towards them at brief intervals. Good, Corrin thought for a moment; there must only be one archer… and then an arrow stuck him in the shoulder. The pain was sudden an unexpected, but dulled by the adrenaline that came in anticipation of a fight.

In cold calculation, he simply acknowledged a thankfulness that it was not his sword hand's shoulder that had been hit, and then they were at the trees.

There were five tribesmen, and only two of them mounted. When they saw the knights charge, one of the men broke and ran.

The archer was a woman. She pulled out a long knife to fight with, but not long enough. Corrin had a good deal of reach on her. He cut her down as she leapt towards him.

A shout from Tallis brought him to his other side, where one of the horsemen had pulled up to him with an axe that looked more appropriate for cutting lumber. Corrin awkwardly blocked a swing, having to reach his sword to the other side of Fury to do so. He turned his mount with his knees as the axe man swung again, the two maneuvering around each other.

This time, the axe man attacked Fury, under the assumption that the horse was an easier target. Corrin parried the blow as Fury reared and lashed out with his heavy hooves, renting a bloody gash across the chest of the tribesman's large pony. Corrin stuck the man with his sword and wrenched it back out, then turned to Tallis.

Tallis had killed the other mounted fighter, but the fourth who hadn't run—another woman—stood with her arms in the air. At her feet lay a cheap sword that she had probably never been trained to use. Tallis had begun to swing at her, but seeing that she was defenseless he stopped himself in time.

For a moment they sat their horses in silence. Tallis slowly lowered his sword, watching the hill woman carefully to make sure that she wouldn't try anything. She stared big-eyed at him, arms still raised, breathing heavily in fear. Corrin peered after the man who had run, but the man was out of sight. Slowly the pain in his shoulder grew, and he remembered that he had taken a wound.

The arrowhead was buried in his shoulder, the body of the shaft sticking out like a branch from a tree. He grimaced and reached up to hold it in place so it wouldn't jostle when he moved.

"You alright?" Tallis asked, eyes flicking over briefly.

"I'll be fine," Corrin said, and then: "Irene. We should make sure…" he didn't have to finish. If by chance she had encountered trouble along the way back, they couldn't afford to sit still and let time pass. Every second would count.

"You ride," Tallis said. "I'll follow with the girl."

"If more of them come—" Corrin said.

"I won't be far behind. But I'm not riding double without her hands bound." Tallis slipped off his mount, pointed his sword at the girl in warning, and untied the crude rope belt one of the corpses had previously been wearing. The woman let out half a sob and clapped her hand over her mouth.

"If you don't act up, I'm barely going to touch you," Tallis said. "Come on, hands out."

Corrin urged Fury forwards again into a canter, not wanting to wear the horse out with a gallop when they were a ways off from Erwold still. His head spun with every sharp throb of his shoulder, but he forced himself onward. He had worked while wounded before, plenty of times with Raoul. But this was the first time he had been in this sort of situation without his knight-master nearby. Fervently the man wished that Lord Sir Raoul was there.

He caught up to Irene halfway back to Erwold. In more familiar ground, she had slowed to let her brother catch up to her, in hopes that he would not be long (or, permanently) delayed by the hill men. She gasped when she saw the arrow.

"We have to get you back," Irene exclaimed.

"Not yet," Corrin said, gritting his teeth. "We have to wait for Tallis."

"Where is he?"

"Took a prisoner."

He explained what had happened to Irene in a few short words, and both of them relaxed when Tallis rode into sight. He held the reins of one of the tribesman's horses, a bony lean animal, with the hill woman tied to the saddle.

It wasn't until they were all headed back to Erwold proper that the adrenaline began to leave Corrin and the reality of what they had done began to sink in. Shame filled him. Yes, they had fought for their lives, but it had hardly been a fight. These were not people trained to use weapons. The woman with the bow had attacked them first by shooting at them, but they could have run. They didn't have to fight…

No, part of him knew it had been justified. If the two knights hadn't been mounted, or hadn't been knights for that matter, the hill people wouldn't have hesitated to attack them, either. And then they wouldn't be able to defend themselves. Leaving them alive and armed would have been a poor idea. There were farmers living out here, houses that could have been raided. Perhaps he should have taken the weapons from the bodies.

Still, he couldn't help but feel that he had done something inherently wrong, something to be ashamed of.

Word spread quickly once they reached the castle. Once all three of them had dismounted, Tallis began to untie the hill woman from the saddle. Lady Adeline ran out as a hostler took first Corrin, then Irene's reins. Another hostler held Tallis' mount and the reins of the hill horse, waiting for the woman to be taken off its back.

Adeline embraced Irene tightly for a long moment, then forced Corrin to sit down on a bench so that she could examine the arrow wound while the healer was sent for. The jostling of riding and fighting had caused it to bleed more than it would have left still, and while the arrow head still plugged up the wound the surrounding tunic was damp and dark with blood.

Lord Sir Dryden strode into the yard next and surveyed the whole scene with a grim face. He spat at the hill woman.

"Take her around back and cut off her head," he ordered.

"With all respect," Tallis said, "she's disarmed, and she's my prisoner, sir. She surrendered."

"She's an outlaw," the Lord insisted. "Scum. The moment you set her free she'll be back to thieving and killing."

"That may be, but she'll see trial in Corus."

Lord Sir Dryden frowned and straightened, pulling up to his full height, which equaled Tallis.

"Boy, these are my lands, and this is my justice. You're a guest of my hospitality, and I'm in no mood to play games."

"If being a guest means killing someone I don't have to kill, my lord, with all due respect, I'll take my leave."

Tallis turned to Corrin. "I'll meet you in Persopolis. There's an inn called The Sand Wench."

He gestured for the hostler to keep his reins, then went inside to gather his things. No one stopped him. Dryden snorted, shook his head, and walked over to Corrin.

"You keep strange company, his father said, as the healer came out with a basket of supplies. "How many were there?"

"Five. One ran while we were busy with the others."

"And how many did you get?"

"Two. Tallis got the third, then the girl."

Dryden nodded, as Corrin hissed in pain and tightened his hands into fists.

"Good. Should've gotten them all, of course. It's not like they put up much of a fight."

Dryden stood awkwardly, looked at his son for a long moment, and turned on his heel to walk back inside. His father gone, Corrin swore at the pain. The healer made a small, final cut, then pulled out the arrowhead and immediately pressed a thick wad of bandage over the wound. His sleeve had already been cut away from the puncture so that it wouldn't get in the way. The healer placed her hand carefully over the bandage, a faint yellow glow emanating from her palm.

"Can't you do anything about the pain?" He asked.

The woman shook her head. "Sorry, master Corrin, I'm only good for infections."

"No, it's fine. Thank you." He shut his eyes as she finished spelling and wrapping the wound, and his mother took his hand.

"You know," Adeline said, "I think your father was actually proud of you."

"He has a funny way of showing it."

"He always does."

Corrin wanted to leave that night, but nobody would hear of it. He had dinner with them all again that evening, his arm in a sling to keep his shoulder from being overly jostled by movement. Dryden said little to him, but Corrin took it by way of compliment.

The next morning, a tunic covering the bandage and his shield once again strapped to his saddle, Corrin said his farewells and rode away from fief Erwold. He would miss his mother and his sister, as he always did. But he was ready to be gone.


	7. Going North

Obviously, this is a work of fanfiction, and the world (as well as some specific characters/places) belongs to Tamora Pierce. Hope you're enjoying it :)

* * *

The road alone to Persopolis was boring and uneventful. Still uncertain how he felt about the fight with the untrained, barely-armed outlaws, Corrin didn't like being left to his own thoughts. He had been in similar situations before, but only under the command of others; it had never been his word that mattered.

There was too much he had yet to figure out about justice. He passed a few other travelers and overtook one traveling merchant's caravan, which stopped briefly when he asked what they were selling. He felt bad that he had no interests in the cloths and perfumes that they were carrying to Corus, so he bought a bag of dried cherries for their troubles and kept riding.

Going to Persopolis meant leaving the hills and entering the Great Southern Desert. He left the last of the hills the morning of his second day, and rode hard to reach Persopolis before the sun went entirely out of the sky. He barely made it inside the city.

Corrin had to ask a few people before he found directions for the Sand Wench. The city was still largely Bazhir; the owners of the boarding house most certainly were not. It was a rough building in bad repair, but cheerily lit, the entrance hung with a lantern. He had to go around the side of the building to find the stables, and ring a large hanging bell before a young Bazhir boy scurried out of the loft and took Fury's reins for a copper.

"Take good care of him," Corrin said to the boy, lifting off his saddlebags and shield and heading inside. The movement bothered his wounded shoulder, and he gritted his teeth against the pain, walking quickly so that he could put down his things.

Tallis wasn't in the main room, but the matronly woman who asked him if he needed anything told him that, yes, a young knight and a woman a little older than himself had bought two separate rooms that morning. Their things were still here, she told him, but she hadn't an idea where they had gone or when they'd get back. With a sigh, Corrin rented a room of his own, set down his things, and came back to the main room with hopes of buying a warm meal.

He was just finishing when Tallis came inside, the hill woman trailing behind him.

"Corrin!" Tallis exclaimed cheerfully, and grabbed two chairs from other tables. He flung himself down into one of the chairs, and the woman took the other. "We were hoping you wouldn't be far behind us."

"How did you know about this place?" Corrin asked, in a voice hushed enough that the woman—who he judged to be the proprietor—wouldn't overhear. "I swear, Tallis, you have a gift for finding cheap rooms, but it's a little… northern, isn't it?" Corrin would have been just as happy to stay in a Bazhir establishment; it somehow seemed disrespectful to him to go into the desert and avoid doing business with the tribesmen.

Tallis shrugged. "It's not like that's why I chose it. I came here with Sir Esmond a year or two ago. Cheap rooms, cheap ale. Why? Don't you like it?"

"It's fine. What's she doing?" Corrin gestured to the hill woman.

"Sitting," the woman responded. "And my name is Resla."

"Resla, then. You're still taking her to Corus for trial, aren't you?"

"Oh, I don't know. We've rather become friends," Tallis said with a grin, slinging his arm around Resla. She smiled but pushed his arm off.

"Tell me you're joking," Corrin said. "You can't just take someone prisoner and let them go."

"Why ever not?" Said Tallis, entirely serious. "Here, Resla, would you mind getting us some ale?" He handed her a copper coin.

"I don't want ale," Corrin snapped.

"Water for him, then," Tallis amended.

With a disdainful look, Resla picked the coin up with two fingers and slipped off to the bar of the inn.

"I know what you're thinking, chivalry and justice and all that," Tallis said in a fierce, hurried whisper. "But come on, Corrin. She didn't choose to be a killer—"

"She did," Corrin interrupted. "I don't care what her life was lacking or how hungry her children were. She chose to pick up that sword. Look, Tallis, I'm not saying she should be executed—"

"Aren't you? What do you think they're going to do in Corus, give her a bowl of stew and send her on her way? There's no patience for the poor."

"That doesn't mean you can just let her go!"

"She surrendered to me. I can do what I want with her."

"It's not right," Corrin said. "What about the crimes she's probably committed? And how do you know she won't just go do it all again?"

"You realize you sound like your father, don't you?" Tallis said.

Corrin sat back, fuming, as Resla returned with a glass of water in one hand and two mugs of ale balanced in the other. There was a tense moment while they all drank and none of them spoke.

"What's it for tonight?" Tallis asked. "Dancing, cards, a moonlight ride in the desert?"

Resla opened her mouth to say something, but Corrin cut her off.

"I had a long ride today," he said, and stood up, finishing the water. "I'm going to sleep. Have fun."

The long ride wasn't a lie, but he tossed and turned for so long that he began to regret his hasty exit. Maybe Tallis was right. Hadn't Raoul said everyone deserved a second chance? He resolved to make things up to Resla in the morning, and to try and have a fresh start with her, informed but unclouded by the circumstances under which they had met.

But wasn't he pardoning an inexcusable crime, by doing that? Bandits took lives every year. He had sworn, at his ordeal, to uphold the law and to prevent it from being broken. The law demanded justice, in all cases. And Raoul had also told him that being a knight was difficult, and often thankless, work. By the same rules, maybe it didn't matter who Resla was or what had driven her to pick up a sword. Guilty was guilty, wasn't it? His chivalry classes had prepared him for hard and fast decisions, not dilemmas that put him between the crown's law, the harshness of poverty, and the trust of his closest friend.

She had surrendered to Tallis. Maybe it was for Tallis to decide. He would be courteous with Resla, for now.

But next time he saw Raoul, he thought, they would have an awful lot to talk about.

* * *

Being friendly to Resla proved difficult. Corrin slept poorly enough that when Tallis knocked on his door the next morning, he was still abed.

"We wanted to leave early," Tallis said, the words short and clipped. "Are you ready to leave?"

"Give me a few minutes," Corrin said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He dressed, washed his face briefly, and re-bandaged the shoulder. Thanks to the healer's work, it wasn't infected, but the wound was closing slowly.

Outside, Tallis handed him a warm pastry and they all waited for the horses to be saddled. Resla was wearing a new set of clothes, in far better (and cleaner) condition than the ones they had found her in. Her small features went cold in Corrin's presence. And no wonder, he thought. To her, he was the man who wanted her brought to justice. He didn't know how to assure her without admitting that Tallis was right, which he wasn't ready to do. Instead, he said nothing.

Resla rode the bony hill horse, her hands gripping onto the mane as much as the reins. She was obviously an inexperienced rider, but if she was sore from the last few days, she didn't complain.

"I'd like to go north," Tallis said, a little into the morning.

"We're going north," Corrin said dryly.

"No, I mean far north. _North _north. Maybe visit some of the border forts, or see the City of the Gods."

"I'm for going back to Corus," Corrin said.

"Not this again," Tallis snapped.

"I'm not talking about the courts," Corrin said. "I'm just talking about the city, so calm down. "

"I'd like to see Corus," Resla offered tentatively. "I've never been."

"It seems I'm outvoted," Tallis said, softening his voice into a dramatic complaint. "We will stop by Corus, and anybody brave enough to continue with me may ride north after a brief delay."

"I didn't know getting drunk in every tavern along the way was called bravery," Corrin replied.

"Some people," Tallis responded loftily, "have no appreciation for the finer things in life. And you are most certainly a barbarian."

When they stopped for lunch, Corrin and Tallis practiced their sword work since they hadn't in the morning. They also briefly ran through a number of the Shang hand-to-hand exercises that they had learned as pages, Corrin fighting one-handedly, careful not to disrupt his shoulder too badly. Resla sat with the horses and watched intently.

Tallis wiped the sweat off his face as they returned, and saw the expression on the woman's face.

"How did you learn to swordfight?" Tallis asked her.

"What little I knew, I taught myself. Most folk didn't bother to fight back. It didn't much matter if I was good."

"Did you want to learn?"

"Of course," she said. "But swords are noble's weapons. What was I supposed to do, try for the knighthood?"

"Hm. Well, I can show you some things tomorrow, if you'd like."

Corrin sidled close to Tallis while Resla got out bread and salted meat for them to eat.

"Do you really think teaching her how to fight is a good idea?" Corrin whispered. "I know she's not your prisoner anymore, but..."

"Oh, for gods' sakes, will you just shut up about it," Tallis said sharply enough that Resla looked up at them. "Isn't it enough for you that I trust her?"

"You don't know her."

"I know her better than you. We spent two days on the road together. She swore an oath to me, Corrin, that if I helped find her honest work she'd stay an honest woman."

"Oaths can be broken. I'm not saying to distrust her, just… teaching her how to fight is…"

"Fine." Tallis threw his sword and scabbard down onto the ground and strode towards Resla, who straightened in a hurry and took a step back away from him.

"You meant your oath?"

"I… yes, of course. If you can find me work. Who'd _want _to be an outlaw?"

"Then swear it in blood."

He pulled out his belt knife, a thin blade not meant for heavy combat, and thrust it at her, handle-first. She took it slowly in a shaking hand.

"I have to?"

"Yes. Can you sign your name?"

"I don't know how to write."

Tallis scrounged in his saddlebags, throwing supplies onto the ground in a hurry, until he found a thin book. He ripped off half of a blank page, and had Resla prick her finger, then place a fingerprint of blood on the sheet in the place of her name. Corrin had never seen a blood oath signed before. They were the most serious form of oath there was, held to the gods. You couldn't break a blood oath and live. The blood would boil in your veins, or so he'd heard.

"How do you not know how to write?" Corrin asked when she was done. "There are schools all over the realm now. You never went?"

"Just since it's free doesn't mean everyone can go," Resla said disdainfully, rubbing the blood off her finger. "Our da ran off. I had to raise my brother."

"I'm sorry. What happened to him?"

"My brother?" She picked up the loaf of soft bread and tore it into three chunks for them to share, her hands shaking. "He was killed by them in the blue tunics. The King's own? They came through a year or two back."

The King's own. Lord Sir Raoul's force. It could have been anyone, but… Corrin had been with the King's Own when they fought against hill bandits more than once. It was hill bandits who had lamed Feather, his old grey charger.

For all he knew, he had killed this woman's brother.

"Excuse me," Corrin said. He turned on his heel and walked off, not sure why he felt so strongly. He knew that every time he took a life, he was leaving families bereft. It was just as true that the bandits they fought were doing the same, killing and stealing and ruining lives. He knew it was justice, but that didn't make it any easier to face the aftermath. When he judged himself in control of his body he walked back to them. Resla and Tallis had eaten already. Wordlessly, with a clap on the back, Tallis handed Corrin meat and bread. They all mounted and rode in silence as Corrin ate.

"Resla," Corrin said at last, when he had finished eating. "I'm sorry about your loss. About your brother. And I'm sorry that I've been rude. I'm not saying that I trust you fully, but I hope you can understand why I've reacted as I have. And not hate me for it. Maybe in time we could even be friends."

"I know," Resla said. And then, "I don't hate you, I think. Doesn't mean I like you. But it's a cruel world sometimes, and you can't go blaming that on everyone who's against you. Things just are the way they are."

It took more than a week to reach Corus, since Resla couldn't ride fast. They took breaks often. Because Resla didn't have any gear, they spent their nights at the various inns scattered along the Great Road South. Corrin found a healer to take care of his shoulder; while he didn't mind working through pain, he didn't want to risk reopening the wound every time he tried to practice his fighting.

When they reached Corus it was late afternoon, and Resla's eyes widened in disbelief at the sight of the lively city below them. Corrin laughed, remembering his own first site of the city, so many years ago when he began training as a page.

Corrin's heart soared at the sight of Corus, the only home he had ever really loved.

"I'll admit, it's nice to be home," Tallis said, leading the way down the road.


	8. Romantics

Tortall and many of the places/people in it belong to Tamora Pierce, duh :)

haha this chapter... I smell drama coming... :P

* * *

Corus was busy in the spring, although not in the ways Corrin had wanted.

Raoul wasn't in, as the King's Own had been called out to help with both flooding in the north and raiding pirates, who had pushed further inland this spring than in years past, along the costal hills. Corrin asked the King if there was work that needed doing—border patrols, anything—but there was little that needed to be done. It was a time of relative peace, and all the necessary knights had been sent out while Corrin and Tallis were away.

"You could always ride north with me," Tallis suggested in the practice yards the next morning, when Corrin told him what the King had said. But the prospect didn't appeal to Corrin. As much as he loved Tallis as a brother, something stirred in him, telling him that wasn't what he wanted to do. That wasn't his answer.

Mostly he spent his time having discussions with the more engaging of his former teachers, or practicing with his sword or lance, riding Fury or Nimble in the woods around Corus. Many knights who weren't in the field were in Corus looking at potential squires, so Corrin had a number of knights to spar against. When they realized that he was far cleverer with a sword than he was with his shy tongue, Corrin found himself with more than enough partners to practice against.

The court was a swarm of garden parties, now that the weather was reliably warm enough for being outdoors. Nearly every day that week, Corrin found himself invited to ride with Lords and Ladies or other knights, half of the women eligible ones. He went on occasion, remembering his father's command to find a wife if he wouldn't have one picked for him. The prospect did little to change his feelings. He was not immensely fond of court functions or parties, but his father's threat of finding him a wife hung heavily on him.

If he had to marry, he wanted it to be on his own accord. With that, he made Tallis and Matias, another of his knight friends, accompany him to those of the parties he did force himself to attend. Many of the ladies were beautiful, and a few were even kind and interesting, but he could barely bring himself to talk to any of them.

"I saw you joust last year," a blonde lady said to him on one of the rides he attended, trotting her little white mare up alongside Corrin's Nimble.

"I'm surprised you remember," he said.

"You unhorsed my brother. I'd curtsey, but it's a little hard to do a-horse. I'm Liene, by the way."

"Corrin," he said. "Who's your brother?"

They talked for much of the ride, joined occasionally by other nobles. Seeing that Corrin was actually speaking with a woman of his own free will, Tallis kept a distance, watching him like a mother duck watches a duckling. The whole group picnicked on a hill, and then rode back.

"Who was that?" Tallis asked him afterwards with a smile, as they walked back to the palace together.

"Who? Oh, Liene?"

"She's pretty," Tallis said, looking over his shoulder to see if any of their riding companions were within distance to hear. None were.

"Oh, I suppose."

"What? Was she dull?"

"No," Corrin said, and blinked, realizing it was true. There was nothing to dislike about her. She was funny, and had seemed kind; mannered, but not uptight. She was from a good house, one that his father would not wholly disapprove of. They even shared some interests. In one conversation alone, they had discussed horses, archery, and Tortallan history.

"Then what?"

"I don't know," said Corrin. "Maybe I'll see her again." If he thought about it hard enough, he could imagine some hazy future with her; for all that he didn't know her.

The next morning, after much deliberation and pacing back and forth, he wrote out a note on heavy parchment.

_The Lady Liene of Irimor_

_I enjoyed speaking with you during Lady Wilma's riding party. _

_Might I request the honor of your company tomorrow evening?_

_Sir Corrin of Erwold _

Tallis snorted when Corrin showed him the card.

"How old are you, seventy? Just talk to her," Tallis said. Corrin gave him a pleading look. "Alright," Tallis said, after a moment of silence. "Maybe you're right. But you talked to her once already, didn't you?"

"But this way, if she says no, I don't have to see her face," Corrin said.

"Alright, fine. Do it."

Corrin found a serving woman and gave her a copper to deliver the message.

* * *

"If Raoul isn't back in a week, I'm going to go find him," Corrin told Tallis, later that same day. They were both seated on their big destriers, lances balanced on the stirrups of their saddles and held upright with one hand. With the pages practicing an assortment of weapons on the ground, the younger knights had taken over the quintain and other jousting targets, both for fun and in preparation for that summer's jousting season.

"What about the fair lady Liene? You seem quite attached, to think about leaving so soon after asking for her company."

"Oh, well. I'm sure I'll know whether she'd like to see me again, before the week's out."

"Alright," Tallis said. "How about we ride for Raoul together, then? I can't promise I'll stick around after that, but I'll at least go that far with you. Maybe he'll need another sword."

"I'm sure he wouldn't mind one," Corrin said. While he hated to wish for disaster, he did hope that Raoul could put him back to work, at least for a little while. His time in the field with the Own had felt full of purpose, not like now.

"Ho, Corrin!" A voice called. Both knights turned around.

Waving at them from the other side of the fence was Lady Liene, with a riding party. Corrin nudged Fury forwards, still balancing the lance, and Tallis followed.

"What are you doing over here?" Corrin asked, unnerved by the coincidence.

"We were taking a shortcut, and I saw you," she said cheerfully.

"Well, that's… good," he said, blushing, uncertain what else to say. Regular conversations were far easier than ones like these.

"Wait," Tallis interrupted, looking at one of the other riders. "Did you sing in Port Legann? I think we saw you."

"You may've," the woman responded. "I've certainly played there before."

Corrin remembered her instantly. She had sung that night in the Fat Mongrel, and he had almost worked up the courage to speak to her. Her voice had been captivating. Everything about her had been.

"Oh, Ellie's a wonderful musician," Liene said cheerfully. "We heard her in Corus last night, and she agreed to play at a party I'm having tonight—which is why I stopped actually," she said, with a short laugh. "I got your card, and I was wondering if you'd like to attend. Your friend is welcome, of course," she said with a nod to Tallis.

Corrin nodded mutely.

"We'd love to, thank you," Tallis said, with a wolfish grin.

"It's at my family's summer house in Corus," Liene said. "I'll have my maid deliver the address to you."

The riding party rode off, leaving Corrin and Tallis sitting on their horses on the other side of the fence. For a long moment they both watched the riders retreat, saying nothing.

"What are the chances?" Tallis said.

"It's a small world," Corrin agreed.

"I didn't mean the singer. I meant, a woman likes you."

"I'll hit you for that one once we're on the ground. Women have liked me before!"

"Well, not ones you've actually spoken to."

"Feel free to stop talking at any time."

"You don't seem particularly thrilled about Liene," Tallis remarked as they both walked back to the quintain, which was empty of other knights for the moment.

"Hm," Corrin said, and charged, lowering his lance as he did.

He hit the target squarely and rode past the swinging sandbag, hoping that Tallis wouldn't push the point. He didn't know how to feel about Liene. He supposed that he should feel thrilled, but he didn't. If he was excited to attend her party, it was partly just because he knew the other woman—Ellie, Liene had called her Ellie—would be there. And that was crazy. He didn' t know a single thing about her, apart from her voice.


	9. Footwork

Tortall and many of the places/people in it belong to Tamora Pierce.

Enjoy!

Liene's family's summerhouse was truly more of an estate, the outside lined with flowers and encircled by a great wall. It was a miracle the thing could fit into Corus.

They hadn't been inside for ten minutes, and Tallis was already flirting with a woman. Corrin took his cue to leave and wandered off, floating between small groups of people as he explored the wooden interior of the house.

It was largely a young crowd, and he knew many of the faces in it: knights he had trained with, ladies he had made the acquaintance of. A Shang warrior sat on a couch in the corner, talking intently with a nobleman who looked too soft to be a knight. Liene smiled when she saw him and waved him into her circle of friends. They were talking about a round of new laws that were being considered.

"Pardon me," he said at a break in the conversation, and went off to speak with some of the knights. If he were talking with only Liene, perhaps he would have stayed, but he wasn't good with parties. At least with his fellow knights he knew what to talk about.

Servants milled around with trays of drinks, filling wine-cups and offering small delicacies. By the time the music started, his head felt light and loose.

There was a tune coming from another room, and a voice over it. He followed the sound until he found its source. The woman, Ellie, was seated on a low-cushioned chair with one leg across the other, holding a lute in her lap. After she finished the ballad she was singing, somebody requested a dancing song. The room burst into activity.

It was time to leave that part of the party, then. Corrin was not much of one for dancing. The footwork was easy enough; it carried over from swordplay. He knew how to move. It was the other-person part that had him worried.

He didn't make it all the way to the door before he found Liene standing in front of him. She smiled impishly and curtsied, holding out her hand. There was no polite way to refuse. Corrin bowed, and took her hand in his. They moved into the circle of dancers.

They were far enough from the front of the house that they didn't hear the pounding knock on the door, or notice the guardsman filling the front yard. They didn't know anything was wrong until a footman tugged Liene away from Corrin. She separated from him with a concerned look, hurried a flustered curtsey, and followed the footman at a brisk walk, holding her skirts up off the ground. For a moment he watched in confusion, but the room was beginning to fall silent. He followed Liene.

A crowd of guests were watching as Liene spoke with a member of the provost's guard. The woman who she spoke to explained something in a hurried whisper, her hands gesturing. Liene nodded, then nodded again. A moment passed. She turned to the guests.

"Everyone," Liene said, her voice clear but not loud, "the guards have tracked a criminal to the grounds… they need to continue the search. It is unlikely to be dangerous, but they recommend that you leave, so long as I can vouch for your identity."

A low murmur ran through the crowd. People gathered their things and left in groups, hurriedly, their heads down. One or two opted to stay with the guards.

"Are you going?" Corrin asked Liene, once she had a moment away from all the guests with questions.

"This is my house," she said. "I'll stay until it's all resolved."

"Should I stay?"

"You don't have to."

He found Tallis standing with a small group which included both the lady that Tallis had earlier been talking to, and the musician. Ellie.

"Corrin!" Tallis said, and slapped the other man on the back. "You staying here?"

"No," Corrin said. "Why would I be?"

"Well, we were talking about getting some food," Tallis said. "You coming?"

It wasn't terribly late, but there were few places still serving food at that hour. They ended up in a tavern around a large wooden table, talking and laughing late into the night.


End file.
